


Change of Course

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Victor Nikiforov, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Engineer Katsuki Yuuri, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, cute and dumb alien vitya, gays in space, what do you get when you cross a royalty fic with a space fic? this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is an engineer with Starfleet and has caught the attention of a curious diplomatic passenger. (They’re gay in space i don’t fucking know how to summarize this.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 24
Kudos: 131





	Change of Course

Viktor tended to find Yuuri no matter where he was stationed on any given day. In the engineering bay, lunching in the mess, goofing off with Phichit in the medbay… Viktor found him. And Viktor always had questions. 

“Yuuri, what does grass feel like? There’s no grass on Pitera.”

“Yuuri, what is  _ chocolate milk? _ Is it a dessert, or a drink?”

“Yuuri, have you ever gone ice skating? That’s not a thing in the Andromeda system.”

Viktor’s curiosity had bewildered him at first, wondering why an aristocrat’s son would have any interest in old-Earth foods and entertainment, and why, of everyone aboard Starmada Five, he would ask Yuuri these questions. There were no fewer than ten old-Earth experts on board, all of them much better at interspecies communication than Yuuri was. But here, in the engineering bay, Viktor had carved out his own space for interrogation.

Viktor's cheeks were always a soft purple when Yuuri spoke with him, his eyes sparkling in a way that was not dissimilar to a human's. Viktor was charming, if a bit aloof when it came to the intricacies of interpersonal communication. Granted, he had managed to grow up relatively well-adjusted in quite a stilted, formal world with very specific ways of doing things.

Viktor's life before Starfleet had, in his words, been "horribly boring" on the best days. A king's son, Viktor spent his days in the pews of parliament and his evenings at galas and balls. Most of it was far beyond what Yuuri would have considered  _ boring _ , having spent his early years mopping tile floors in his family's inn.

It had been a slow day, admittedly, and with menial tasks filling his agenda. Recalibrate the doors on the flight deck, an elevator in the residence wing is malfunctioning. Simple, if mind-numbing work to complete. Yuuri took his lunch in the engineering bay, preferring to work through his designated break instead of forcing polite conversation with Phichit’s medical officer friends, most of whom were worse at communicating with others than Yuuri was. 

It was then that Viktor found him, his mouth full of noodles.

“Yuuuuuuuri!” Viktor chirped from the doorway, his long silver braid hanging over his shoulder, swaying as he moved. It was a mark of nobility on his home world, the royal family and higher-level dignitaries bore the distinct trait. 

“Hi, Viktor,” Yuuri managed, covering his full mouth and laying down his chopsticks. “No meetings today?” He asked, shocked, in all honesty, that Viktor had decided to skip his usual luncheon with the other diplomatic passengers and interstellar students on their exchange studies. 

“I’m playing hooky.” Viktor replied with a smile, bringing an insulated lunchbox into view from behind his back. “That’s how that phrase works, right? Shirking responsibilities to have fun?”

Yuuri tried not to laugh too hard. “That’s it,” he nodded, pulling Viktor’s chair out from under the vacant desk beside his. “Not that I would know.”

Viktor smirked playfully, (or at least, what Yuuri assumed was playful, Viktor was intensely hard to read) and took his seat, opening the box to reveal a small feast of delicious food. “Yuuri is so studious, I’m sure Yuuri  _ never _ skipped his lessons.”

Yuuri choked on nothing again, flushing down to his toes. “I was first in my class, I didn’t have time to play hooky.” Yuuri muttered under his breath as Viktor began to eat. Yuuri took the hint and finished his ramen quickly, trying not to be distracted by Viktor’s soft smile and the unfairly cute sounds he made when he ate. The twin antennae at his hairline twitched and bobbed while he ate, another thing that Yuuri had yet to decipher. Viktor’s body language was difficult to decode… he was incredibly touchy for a culture that reserved physical touch for bonded partners.

Viktor defied most of what Yuuri had learned of the Piteran people, when he thought about it. The people were quite reclusive and isolationist, but natural resource scarcity required collaboration with the rest of their system— opening their world to travelers and dignitaries from all corners of the Andromeda, Proxima Centauri and Sol systems.

Yuuri had expected their Prince to be just as reclusive and solitary, but Viktor never failed to frustrate his expectations. 

“I’ve been reading the encyclopedia files you shared, Yuuri.” Viktor remarked as he poured a cup of strong-smelling tea from his thermos. He offered Yuuri a cup as well, eyeing the faded, chipped mug Yuuri had brought with him from Terra. The blue mug had made it with him through university, through so many sleepless nights and crash study sessions. The brown poodles were almost completely washed away, the inside darkened by years of tea stains.

Yuuri nodded and set his mug in front of Viktor with a soft smile. “Have you learned anything interesting?” he asked, letting the scent of Piteran herbs float into his nose with a deep sigh. 

“I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to begin with you, Yuuri.” Viktor answered, pulling a datapad from his bag and setting it on the desk between them. Viktor’s handwritten notes were a mess of Piteran and English; there were scribbled questions in the margins that looked like afterthoughts. It was all so endearing it made Yuuri’s heart ache. 

He had a soft spot for Viktor, he couldn’t deny it much longer— and that was omitting Viktor’s impossible beauty. Adding the fact of Viktor’s odd, inexperienced charm to the beautiful curve of his lower lip, the dazzling gleam in his eyes, all of him. He looked elvish, like the ones in old-Earth fairy tales. 

Viktor pointed to his list of questions, asking Yuuri a myriad of things from his research. They were all simple questions, but when Viktor’s fingers scrolled through those more difficult topics, Yuuri began to waver in his confidence. 

“What do you mean it’s hard to explain?” Viktor’s brow furrowed, creating an unfairly sweet wrinkle between his eyebrows. 

“I  _ mean  _ Philosophy isn’t easy to narrow down to a definition, Viktor.” Yuuri sighed, watching Viktor’s eyes scan his features for a lie. “Philosophy… it’s the study of life. Of what it means to exist, to learn. What it means to know things.”

Viktor huffed at him, crossing his arms and mumbling in Piteran. Yuuri knew enough to get by in conversation, but the way Viktor spoke seemed far more casual than diplomatic conversation. “Alright, that one is hard. We have an idea like it on Pitera.”

Yuuri cocked his head to the side, holding his mug close to his chest. “Every culture does, it’s just not always as divisive as it was on Earth.” 

Viktor nodded, sipping from his cup. “You Earthers were certainly rather obtuse about things, weren’t you?” Viktor pushed his chair just a hair closer to Yuuri's, passing him his datapad. The hum of the maglev chairs was a sound that Yuuri had grown used to, but he hated how it could often drown out the sounds of footsteps in the hallways beyond the door to the engineering bay. He was jealous of Viktor’s time, especially when others tended to attempt to intervene when they were together.

Yuuri snorted a laugh, covering his mouth to preserve any shard of his dignity. “What do you mean by that, Viktor?” He asked through a laugh. Viktor pulled up another page of notes, questioning the final few decades of old-Earth history. “Ah. Well. Yes. But you can’t cast all of us as power-hungry wealth hoarders and politicians.”

“Of course,” Viktor replied through a poorly-concealed smile, “At least my Yuuri would admit if there was a planet-wide pandemonium.”

“Pandemic.” Yuuri corrected without a second thought as the rest of the sentence hit his ear.  _ My Yuuri. _ The golden tattoos under Viktor’s skin were glowing, curling like solar flares against the night sky. “Beautiful.”   
  
“Hm?” Viktor asked, tucking an errand few strands of silver hair behind his ear and Yuuri’s throat ran suddenly dry. An immediate change of course, Yuuri thought, realizing what had come out of his mouth.

“You called me your Yuuri?” he asked instead of clarifying, and Viktor bit his lip.

“I misspoke,” Viktor blurted out, before quickly taking the last bite of a sweet-smelling cake. Yuuri didn’t dare hope he was fibbing. He liked how that sounded. He wouldn’t mind being Viktor’s Yuuri. 

Yuuri had learned it was a bioluminescence effect, but had yet to learn what it meant. The gold tattoos were placed artificially, but the purple… that was wholly natural to the people of Pitera.

There was a heady silence for a heartbeat or two, as Yuuri realized just how close Viktor’s thigh was to his own, just how easily he could touch the soft material of his uniform. The purple markings along the sleeves and across his chest marked him as a diplomat, contrasting Yuuri’s science officer yellow. Purple uniforms were rarely seen below the residence floors, and even rarely in the engineering bays, and yet, Viktor was here, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, at Yuuri’s side asking him questions.

God, he felt lucky.

“Yuuri.” Viktor broke the silence between them tentatively, carefully. “What did old-Earthers do to celebrate name days?”

“Name days?” Yuuri asked in return, digging into his memory for the definition of the Piteran term. Viktor was shifting carefully in his seat, looking as sheepish as Yuuri had ever seen him. The color of his cheeks had deepened, washing him a darker purple. 

“You know,” Viktor replied, a soft exasperation to his tone that made Yuuri’s lips twitch upward. “Name days?”

Yuuri wanted to laugh, he really did; he wanted to laugh at himself, but principally at the pleading, embarrassed look on Viktor’s face. Piterans didn’t celebrate  _ birthdays, _ they celebrated Name Days. The tradition celebrated the day a child chose their name, usually on what humans would recognize as their tenth birthday. Time was different for every system, of course, but Pitera’s time cycle and its orbit around Andromeda was blessedly similar to the time cycles on Terra. 

“Oh, yes, right. Old-Earth celebrated birthdays, not name days.” Viktor’s nose wrinkled up a bit, but he didn’t protest. “Families had small gatherings, with gifts and food… we still do that, on Terra.”

“Traditions don’t die easily.” Viktor interjected, with the weight of understanding that Yuuri could see clearly in his eyes. Viktor was hard to read, but never had he been easier to understand than now.

“They don’t. How do they celebrate Name days on Pitera?” Yuuri redirected, feeling himself drawn closer, even if by only a few centimeters. Viktor smiled softly, wistfully— clearly Yuuri had struck something of a nerve.

“Mine were different than common celebrations, of course. Prince Regent and all.” Viktor laughed dryly, and Yuuri wondered if that was the first joke he had heard Viktor make at his own expense. “There was always a ball, a big feast. My mother always took me to watch the suns rise on my name day. She told me the same story every cycle, about how I picked my name.”

Yuuri nodded silently, urging Viktor on. This was the closest they had ever been; Viktor’s stories were never this personal, this intimate. Viktor’s hand held the pendant around his neck, a soft gleam of gold swam in the glassy, pearlescent gem. 

“I don’t remember it, it was so long ago. But she told me that I demanded she call me Vityasha.” Viktor smiled, speaking his musical native tongue. Yuuri had never considered himself to have an affinity for foreign languages before now. But perhaps it was simply an affinity for Viktor. “I refused to answer to anything else. It was Vityasha or nothing.”

Yuuri laughed softly, seeing the reminiscent curve of Viktor’s mouth. “Is Viktor your formal name, then?” Yuuri asked, to which Viktor nodded. 

“It’s a stronger name. My father was dismayed to hear I had chosen something less… what’s the word?”

“Masculine?” Yuuri offered. 

“Masculine. My father wanted to raise a king.” Viktor nodded, folding his hands in his lap. “I said to hell with it. My father would have a king named Vityasha or no king at all.”

Whatever words Yuuri had summoned to mind were lost to the wind with the way Viktor’s jaw was set, firm and strong. Viktor had shown himself eager to bend the norms Yuuri himself had grown up with, a sharp divide between feminine and masculine— to have learned his distaste for similar norms at such a young age, in such a position of power… Yuuri envied that strength, that devotion to self. 

Viktor was one of a kind, bright and sparkling in his own way. In a way that Yuuri craved to know, to find for himself. 

“Anyway,” Viktor sighed, “I wanted to ask you about something I read. Old traditions.” 

“Old traditions.” Yuuri repeated softly, pulling at a fraying thread in his sleeve, trying not to stare. Viktor pulled him in like a magnet, tugging him closer and closer until he felt like he would fall completely, tumble into Viktor’s orbit without hope of escape.

“Are birthday kisses still a thing?”

Yuuri choked on nothing, wondering if he had imagined Viktor’s question, imagined that he hadn’t asked if  _ birthday kisses were a thing. _ His stomach twisted anxiously and he nodded slowly, watching Viktor’s face light up.

“They were. Well, probably still are… between partners.” Yuuri answered, very aware of Viktor’s hand resting gently on the arm of his chair. How easy it would be to reach out and touch, to hold him, to feel the double thrum of his pulse.

“Just partners?” Viktor asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“I suppose… not  _ just _ partners. Maybe people interested in starting a relationship,” Yuuri breathed, his heart pounding in his ears. Viktor had turned his chair to face him, their boots no further than a centimeter apart. When had he leaned forward? When had Yuuri mirrored him? “People who are attracted to each other. Who want to be physically intimate.”

He could feel the warmth of Viktor’s body heat from his place across from him, that same magnetism he always felt even stronger than before.

“I think I’d like to be physically intimate.” Viktor whispered, his hand suddenly resting on Yuuri’s knee. Yuuri let out a shaky breath, feeling lightheaded and dizzy in the best way. “It’s my name day.” 

Yuuri felt Viktor’s breath dance over his cheek and his eyes slid shut, their noses brushing felt like sparks igniting, like a supernova, like— 

_ “Katsuki?”  _ A voice yanked both of them from the moment, a video call from the bridge interrupting at the absolute worst moment. Viktor pushed away, ensuring he was clear of the camera; Yuuri saw in his periphery as Viktor clapped himself softly on both cheeks, a tactic he himself used to keep calm. 

“I’m on break, is it urgent?” Yuuri answered, trying his best to remain respectful to the First Engineer but thoroughly tuning out everything they had to say. 

_ “It isn’t urgent. Sorry to interrupt.” _

Yuuri groaned and turned back to Viktor, who was flushed the deepest purple he had ever seen. He couldn’t shake the image of him from mind, his lips, parted and soft, expectant.

“I’m so sorry, Viktor.”

Viktor laughed, a sharp, breathless thing. “They have great timing.” 

“Excellent timing,” Yuuri agreed, a question about Viktor’s actions hanging on the end of his tongue. He wanted to pick up where they left off, he wanted to feel Viktor’s touch again, see the way his eyes flickered with excitement up close.

"Yuuri, tell me about the movers again?" Viktor asked, pulling his braid over his shoulder and playing with the end of it, something that seemed like a nervous tic. Yuuri tried not to laugh, knowing how sensitive Viktor was to his teasing. He had learned that the hard way.

"They're called  _ movies _ , Viktor, not movers." Yuuri gently corrected, watching Viktor's antennae twitch slightly. He still hadn't figured out what that meant. Body language was hard to read with non-terrestrials... but Yuuri had been told the same about his own people, himself specifically, so the jury was still out on that.

"Movies. Which was your favorite? Did you watch lots of them?"

Yuuri nodded to the latter. "I don't really have a  _ favorite _ , I like a lot of movies.” Viktor’s features lit up, a ripple of purple rolling over his high cheekbones. “But one in particular made me want to join Starfleet."

"Which one?" Viktor asked, his cheeks gently glowing purple. Like they had when they had nearly kissed. Yuuri swallowed thickly and attempted to hone his focus, but it was difficult with Viktor’s lips so beautifully curving into a smile, so lovely and rich...

"It's an old one... from the 21st century on Earth. Before humans migrated to Terra. It's about aliens, actually."

"Aliens... non-Earthers?" Viktor asked, his pretty silver brows pinched in the middle. "Is it a good one? Not a mean one?"

"No, no. Well. Sort of. The aliens are the bad guys." Yuuri backpedaled, remembering how horrified Viktor had been when he learned what Earth thought of extraterrestrial life before modern science had sent them to the stars. Viktor pouted, something Yuuri was sure he had learned from him. Or maybe from little Yuri, the Captain’s grandson. "But the aliens aren't really the focus of the movie. It's about teamwork, and friendship.” 

“Oh?” Viktor's cheeks glowed brighter, and Yuuri wondered what norm he had just stepped on from Viktor's home world. 

“We could watch it together sometime."

Viktor smiled into his cup and a plump lower lip disappeared into his mouth, caught between his teeth. "Yuuri,” Viktor’s words were slow, deliberate, careful in that way that stopped Yuuri’s heart. “Are you... asking me... out? Is that what this is called?"

Yuuri froze, his chest rattling with the thud of his heartbeat. He studied Viktor’s features, looking for some signal that he was joking, that he had misunderstood… but there was only an eager smile, those blue eyes sparkling and bright.

“Am I right? Are you asking me on a date?” Viktor repeated, his tattoos writhing and squirming under his skin, belying his excitement more than any expression Yuuri had ever seen. It was adorable, and Yuuri lost himself in the thought of kissing those smiling lips, sharing a theater treat with him, gently sliding his hand into Viktor’s as they watch a movie together...

“I…” Yuuri’s mouth was dry, his stomach tangled in a knot. “I’d really like that, Viktor.”

“You’ll take me on a birthday date?” Viktor asked, the glow of his cheeks, his tattoos, were undeniable. Viktor, unreachable, beautiful, impossible Viktor, was happy. And Yuuri would do anything to preserve that.

“I finish in an hour,” Yuuri said with a smile, glancing at his watch. “Can you wait until then?”

Viktor frowned, a playful frown— a mock frown. “I suppose. On one condition.”

Yuuri laughed, the tension in the air breaking almost instantly. “Anything for you, Viktor.”

“Give me a birthday kiss?” Viktor asked, his voice small and soft. Yuuri swore he wouldn’t survive this. Viktor chewed on his lip, his hands clung to his knees with a white-knuckled grip.

“Can I give you a name day kiss, instead?”

However Viktor managed to taste like peppermint, he had done it, and Yuuri would never want to taste anything other than Viktor’s lips. Viktor had closed the space between them in a moment, pressing himself into Yuuri’s orbit easily, effortlessly. It felt as though they had danced like this before, moving with each other’s breath and the rhythm of the other’s heartbeat. Maybe they had, in another life, but Yuuri hoped he would never forget the way his name sounded, breathed against his lips from the mouth of a future king, his Viktor. His impossible Viktor.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading my cutesy nonsense
> 
> ❤️ ia  
>  [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor) | [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com)
> 
> bonus points if you can guess what yuuri's favorite movie is


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